


The Wind Has Told Me A Song | under obligations

by Hoffmannism



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Red MIGHT be a lovestruck teenager... who knows, Reddington is such a sweetheart, SPOILERS for 7.12, The Slash Twist(tm), it's bc writing from red's pov is just a BITCH
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23360944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoffmannism/pseuds/Hoffmannism
Summary: "I told you, I'm under no obligation," Reddington reminds her."I know", she says, smile light and gentle around the corners of her mouth. "But I saw you watching; how you looked. You may have come into her life out of obligation, but you're staying in it for love. And I can't blame you, he's pretty, the blonde one."Reddington stares at her - ginger, is the first thought that shoots through his head, and - - - has he always been this obvious?
Relationships: Raymond Reddington/Donald Ressler
Comments: 13
Kudos: 50





	The Wind Has Told Me A Song | under obligations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RatTale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RatTale/gifts).



> Peace!  
> I'm back. I'm trying to overcome my writer's block by... writing... and it probably shows, lol.  
> SO this is probably a little sappy (i know my last os was supposed to be the only fluffy resslington-thing) but i've watched far too much sense8 lately and I REALLY dig happy relationships atm.... you gotta live with that now.
> 
> This thing is dedicated to RatTale because man, your stories get me and I hope you're doing well!! <3
> 
> Stay safe, y'all!  
> -Karen ♥

_Der Wind hat mir ein Lied erzählt_  
_Von einem Glück, unsagbar schön!_  
_Er weiß, was meinem Herzen fehlt_  
_Für wen es schlägt und glüht –_  
_Er weiß für wen!_  
_Komm – komm – ach!_  
_Der Wind hat mir ein Lied erzählt_  
_Von einem Herzen, das mir fehlt!_  
  
_[The wind has told me a song_  
_Of bliss, unspeakably beautiful!_  
_It knows what my heart lacks / misses_  
_Whom it beats and glows for -_  
_It knows for whom!_  
_Come - come - oh!_  
_The wind has told me a song_  
_of a heart which I lack / miss]  
  
  
_ **Nina Hagen,["Der Wind hat mir ein Lied erzählt"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HtKwfRLccfw)  
  
  
**

* * *

  
  
_Oh dear._  
  
That's how it had started all these years ago, when they had sat in his Mercedes and Ressler had looked at him _like that_ (full of pain and rage, he'd just lost his girlfriend after all), and Reddington realized two things: one, Donald had _really_ pretty eyes, and two, he cared far more about the agent than he'd like to admit. He'd always (kind of) liked the man, and seeing him bleed out in that damned box three months earlier had made it even clearer - he'd saved his life back then, and now he'd get him Tanida's head as a gift. That's the third thing he came to realize: he'd do about everything for Donald. _(Now here's a scary thought. As if I don't have enough secrets already.)_  
The next time they saw each other after Dembe had delivered Red's gift, Ressler didn't say a word. He just looked at Reddington (whose heart skipped a beat), nodded (didn't punch or shoot him, and boy, Reddington had almost expected that), and looked away as if he'd just done something forbidden. _Oh dear, here we go.  
  
  
__  
  
  
This is getting ridiculous.   
_  
That's how it continued. He'd thought that maybe, _maybe_ , he'd get over it after a few weeks of silently watching, trying to keep him out of danger; that he'd get bored of the agent like he got bored of everything, eventually. He didn't. If anything, it only got worse - his heart beat faster whenever Ressler's name was said, not to mention when the man was actually there. He'd kept to watching. In the field, gun raised, focused, sharp eyes; ready to fight, to run, to bite down. Ready to give it his all, to throw himself into the situation completely (so admirable, yet so stupid), do whatever it takes to bring the bad guy down.   
In the office, no less focused, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal those strong, freckled arms, a hand through his hair (oh how he wished it was his), a nervous tongue quickly wetting pink, very kissable lips. (Sometimes he dreams of those lips; soft and sweet against his own mouth, or skin, or -)  
  
_This is getting ridiculous_ , he thinks as he's standing under the shower, hot water running down his body, his hand around his erection, thinking about Donald Ressler.   
  
  
  
  
_And so it goes._  
  
He'd arranged himself with the situation - silently watching, swallowing thoughts and dreams like ecstasy-pills, never denying them, secretly revelling, bathing in the pool of emotions his fantasy provides. And so it goes; day after day. Month after month. Year after year. Worry eating away at him when he found out about the pills, about Krilov, and then Prescott. Anger, so much anger at the agent's stupidity - stubbornness, more like - whenever he put himself in harm's way to protect others.   
But mostly warmth - at his smiles, and frown, and stupid little comments. And Reddington wants to slap himself for falling for the agent, because as much as he loves watching him, as much does it pain him. And it doesn't get better. He'd had that thought - that, in a few years, maybe, this will all be done - nothing can come out of this anyway - just stop thinking about him - (he's tried [several times], to no avail, Ressler is like the pink elephant, and so he just gave up trying and let himself have another orgasm in his lonely hotel room).   
  
He's given up hope long ago; _he's straight, he hates you, he's so much younger._  
  
So he does everything he can for Ressler, out of the shadows, and contents himself with watching in silence.   
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
It's Agnes' big day - her ballet performance. He's made it just in time, watching from the side.   
  
And he's really trying to concentrate on her dancing, but his gaze keeps drifting into the audience that he can see just enough of from his position. Donald sits there, smiling - no, beaming - like he hasn't seen him in a long time. Probably since the day Audrey came to visit him back in the hospital all those years ago.   
His heart glows; it's overwhelmed with emotion - with love - and he wishes he was the reason for Ressler's joy. He isn't though, and he knows it. At this point, this fact is nothing more than that anymore. A fact. Not a knife, cutting him open. Not the wish for more, not the hole in his chest that yearns for hope. He's buried that long ago.   
  
And he can't hide his smile, doesn't want to - after all, he's still allowed to enjoy himself, even in all this misery.   
  
Then his eyes drift back to the stage where Agnes jumps from her left foot to the right, arms above her head, smiling nervously but obviously enjoying herself. It's sweet. So sweet, he can't deny it, and he chuckles.   
He looks back at Donald, beaming at her with such tenderness in his eyes. Reddington's heart feels a little tight and he _aches_ for this man, wants nothing more than to kiss him right now, kiss him senseless and then some. He can't though, and he knows it. At this point, holding himself back has become a natural reflex.   
  
And before he knows it, the performance is done; he claps and laughs, proud of his girl, and Cassandra is there, too, and he remembers why.   
  
Maybe it's a good idea to leave for now. Get back with her. Forget Donald. And if he can't forget, then maybe he can at least find a new kind of happiness. _(He doubts it, but doesn't let those thoughts come close to him.)  
  
_And then she says she's ready to say good-bye.  
  
Reddington looks at her. He doesn't - _why?_

"I told you, I'm under no obligation," he reminds her. 

"I know", she says, smile light and gentle around the corners of her mouth. "But I saw you watching; how you looked. You may have come into her life out of obligation, but you're staying in it for love. And I can't blame you, he's pretty, the blonde one." 

Reddington stares at her - _ginger_ , is the first thought that shoots through his head, and - - - has he always been this obvious? Or does she just know him too well?

"Cassandra...", he mutters, but before he can come up with something to say - _deny it,_ perhaps -, she kisses him on the cheek and turns to leave. 

"Who knew that underneath it all, you're so sweet? Don't worry, darling. Your secret is safe with me."  
  
It doesn't happen often, but he's lacking words. Can't bring himself to say good-bye, or tell her she's wrong or - anything at all.   
  
Cassandra stops to look over her shoulder.   
  
"You should tell him", she says, and Red doesn't quite know whether to laugh her off or take her seriously, but he doesn't get a chance for a reaction. "You're not the only one who's looking."   
  
And with that she's gone, leaving him alone to wonder.   
  
_I can't - or can I? No, don't be a fool, he's -_  
  
  
Liz comes up. Talks to him. He barely registers her words, not to mention his replies. She asks him if he's alright. "Splendid", he says, then excuses himself. He needs time to think. Liz gives him a worried glance, but he just smiles and turns.   
  
  
Maybe he should talk to Dembe about it; the man is wiser than Reddington will ever be. And it would certainly keep him from another restless night of overthinking.   
  
  


* * *

  
  
He's on his way out - already in the small lobby, just a few feet away from the exit door - when he hears familiar voices. He turns to see Aram and - Donald, laughing and looking more relaxed than in a long, long time. He has barely registered that he's stopped walking and is watching them, and the agents notice him.   
  
"Mister Reddington!", Aram greets him. "I didn't think you'd made it! Have you seen the show? Agnes was _so_ good, she's a real sweetheart."  
  
Ressler chuckles and nods in agreement. Their eyes meet for a second and Reddington asks himself if Cassandra was perhaps right - is Donald looking, too? Or did she just try to get his hopes up so that her leaving wouldn't hurt him too much?   
  
"Yes, she was amazing", he says.   
  
The three make their way through the exit; Donald pulls his coat tighter around his body; wets his lips. It's oddly fascinating, this tiny little movement - just the tip of his tongue _(how he longs to feel it on his body)_ quickly ghosting over his lips _(that he wishes to kiss so deeply)_. Reddington forces himself to look away.   
  
"Well, I'm gonna head home", Aram says, "good night. It was real fun, I wish we could do something like this more often."   
  
"Definitely", Ressler agrees, "good night then."   
  
Aram fumbles with his keys, unlocks the bike lock and drives off.   
  
  
_This is my chance_ , Reddington thinks. _Just - what? Ask him out for a drink? Invite him to my hotel room? This is ridiculous._  
  
He looks at Ressler _(again, he just cannot stop, he_ knows _what these eyes look like and yet -)_ and hesitates a moment.  
  
"Well", Donald says after a few awkward moments, and Reddington can feel his heart sink, "I'm gonna go, too."   
  
Reddington nods. He hasn't expected anything else, but it still stings.  
  
_Tell him_ , Cassandra's voice echoes in his head, _what could possibly go wrong?_  
  
  
  
"Good night", he says instead, trying to sound as normal as possible. Swallow down the disappointment.   
  
But Ressler doesn't go - he seems to be frozen for a second, hesitating, and is that just the light or did he really cast a brief glance down to Reddington's lips?   
  
_No, not possible_ , Reddington thinks, catching his breath.   
  
  
  
"Walk me home?", Donald finally asks.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> ....apparently i'm better at writing angst, hurt and whump.... wELL. (that'll come soon, I hope! working on sth new that i hope won't blow up in my face like the last thing with something like a """PLOT""" did, lol).


End file.
